The Amazingly Magical Stories of Harry Putter
by Becca SnilyFreak Lexter
Summary: Inspired by extreme boredom and a typo, this Harry Potter parody might be funny if you're either high, sleep deprived, or both.
1. Goffers Amuck

**Chapter One: Goffers Amuck**

It was an incredibly hot summer's day and nothing new was happening anywhere. Everything was so freaking boring that several people died. But somewhere in suburban England on this boring day, there was a crazy old coot sitting on a porch. He had a long silvery beard and spiky bubblegum pink hair that was hidden underneath a tall pointed hat, and he was wearing big black sunglasses and a dirty white bathrobe over a black Avenged Sevenfold T-shirt and khaki pants with bright red golf shoes. He was sitting next to a beautiful stray calico cat, and he was speaking to it as if there was some possibility that it was human, or at least that it could understand and actually cared about what he was saying.

This may sound boring, but this crazy old coot was in fact the most gifted magical Goffer that the world had ever seen.

"I don't see any way around this, Professor McKitty," he said to the cat, "but I suppose this family will have to do."

"But Professor Tumblefore," the cat meowed, "I've been watching this family, and I snuck into their house while they were out, and I had the sudden urge to go to the bathroom, and they don't even have a litter box in there! I had to pee on their carpet! I felt so… so… _barbaric!_"

"There, there, Kat," he said as he began to scratch behind the kitty's ears. "They can't be all bad. After all, they do have Goffer blood in them."

"Well, I suppose so, but what's been troubling me…"

But before the cat could tell the old man just what had been troubling her, the front door to the house opened and a rather fat man poked his head and arm out. In his hand he held a cane, which he began pounding excitedly on the ground and the sides of the house.

"Hey! You! Bum!" he shouted at the great Goffer. "I thought I told you already to get off my property, you crazy old hobo!"

The cat hissed and leapt up, its fur standing straight up on its back, but Tumblefore did not move even the slightest muscle. The man in the door continued to pound his cane about for a minute when the shrill voice of a woman shouted at him, "VERNANDO! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO STOP THAT RACKET WITH THE CANE!"

"Yes, Parsnip, my darling!" said the fat man jovially, before pulling himself back inside the house and closing the door behind him.

There was a slightly awkward pause between the cat and the man for a moment afterwards. Then…

"You were about to say something, Kat?"

"Well… You do think the boy is _safe _here, right?"

At this the old man stopped petting the cat and stared at it as if it had suddenly sprouted several wings and an extra head.

"Do you seriously think that I'd be sitting on this porch having this conversation with you right now if I didn't think the boy would be _safe_ here?"

He bopped the cat on the head with his old, wrinkled hand. The cat hissed, and its long black tail puffed out like a porcupine.

"Now what did you do that for? I was just starting to enjoy your company!"

"Kat McKitty, you are one strange animal."

"_I'm_ strange! Hmph! If we weren't undercover right now I'd claw you like you were my grandmother's ugly old couch!"

At this moment, a flying golf cart suddenly landed on the lawn. Suddenly a rather tall, rather fat man emerged from it with difficulty, and as he removed his rather fat bottom from the rather small vehicle, it was a wonder as to how he had managed to fit inside it in the first place.

"Ah! There you are, Hairbrains," said Professor Tumblefore, as if he had been suspecting the stranger all along to arrive in a flying golf cart.

"Hairbrains!" the cat hissed. "How could you _fly_ here in that thing! You could've been seen!" As she said this, a man across the street who had previously been watering his garden suddenly froze, dropped his garden hose, and stared wide-eyed at the scene. However, no one seemed to have noticed.

"Ah, well," grunted the tall fat man called Hairbrains, "Serious Ferrealz was at deh kiddo's house when I got dere, Mister Sir Professor Tumblefore, sirz. An' it wer deh most convenient way fer meh teh travel, y'see. Ain't got no other magical flyin' things, y'see. Anyways I brought deh kiddo. Yeh wanna see it?"

"Yes, Hairbrains," said Tumblefore. "It would bring me great pleasure to see the child."

"Awrighty, den," said Hairbrains, removing the giant Eskimo-like coat he had been wearing. "I know 'e's in 'ere summer-wheres." He began to dig through the many hidden pockets of the giant coat, pulling from them enormous and strange objects like golf clubs and suitcases and toilet seats. Across the street, the man with the garden hose's eyes suddenly rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed onto the wet grass beneath him. Again, no one seemed to take any notice to him.

Growing aggravated, the giant Hairbrains began to shake the coat violently in his hands as more and more strange items fell out of them. Finally, a small (or at least, it appeared to be small, compared to the other objects that now littered the suburban lawn) bundle of blankets hit the ground and bounced slightly before rolling to a stop at Hairbrains' feet.

"Ah! Here's the little tyke. Aww, lookit 'im, 'e musta felled asleep! He's so cute I could jus' squeeze 'im!"

"Best you refrain from squeezing anything, Hairbrains," said Tumblefore, as he crossed the lawn and bent down to pick the bundle up, closely followed by McKitty.

"The boy has a name, does he not?" meowed the cat quietly.

"His name is Harry and he has a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead that will remain there for the rest of his life. It is probably magical or something, and I probably know much more about it than I'm letting on at the moment, but there ain't no way in hell I'm telling you, bitches." He snapped his fingers in a Z-formation as he cradled the bundle in his free hand. He then lifted the blankets to reveal a tiny, sleeping baby with mountains of dark hair and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, just as Tumblefore had suggested.

"Will you stop trying to be so mysterious one day, Tumblefore? It really is very annoying."

"Ah, but that would take the fun out of things, McKitty, would it not?"

"Whatever you say, Professor Tumblefore…" The cat swished her tail in annoyance.

Suddenly Hairbrains burst into loud, obnoxious tears that could've shattered glass if only they were higher pitched.

"I don't wanna say goodbye to 'im yet, 'e's only a baby!" sobbed the giant man. "What if he don't like it 'ere? What if the other kids are mean to 'im?"

"He'll be alright, Hairbrains," Tumblefore assured him. "Besides, you'll most likely see him again in ten years or so, if he has magical Goffer abilities, as everyone is sure he will, since his parents were amazing, and the man who killed them was amazing-er."

"But Professor Tumblefore," the cat meowed anxiously, "are you absolutely _sure _that this is the right thing to do?"

"Professor McKitty, I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

"Well, if you say so…" The cat rolled her eyes and swished her tail in aggravation.

From his pocket Tumblefore pulled out a white envelope with the words "Mr. and Mrs. Vernando Dizzly, Number Forty, Sweetbriar Drive, Small Lynching, England, Planet Earth, Milky Way Galaxy". He walked up to the porch, placed the baby gently in front of the door, and tucked the envelope safe inside the blankets so that it wouldn't blow away with the non-existent wind.

"Lord Bunkermort's powers have been weakened because of this boy. For now the Goffing world is safe. Now, how would you two like to join me in a celebration?"

"Oh, Tumblefore," meowed the calico excitedly, "that would be absolutely splendid!"

"We must hurry though, or all the lemon drops will be gone! Quickly now, Hairbrains, to the golf cart!"

Wiping his eyes, Hairbrains grabbed a golf club from the ground, pointed at the mess on the lawn, and shouted, "_Messbekleen!_" Magically, all of the large items strewn across the lawn had floated up off the ground and began hurriedly stuffing themselves into Hairbrains' giant coat. Across the street, the man with the garden hose regained consciousness, rubbed his head, and passed out again.

Hairbrains grabbed his coat and crossed the lawn to his flying golf cart. He had barely put one leg in before he had gotten stuck. He pulled it out, shook it a bit, and then fit himself in, giant coat and all, with ease. McKitty leapt swiftly into the vehicle and landed gently beside him. Glancing out the window, she spotted the unconscious man across the street, his garden hose dancing about like a snake, spraying water everywhere. She gagged, as if preparing to hack up a furball.

"Professor Tumbledore!" she hissed. "It's a Nogger! He's unconscious! Do you think he might have seen us?"

"It is always a possibility, Professor McKitty," he said with ease. "Best be safe than sorry." Again, he reached into his white robe pocket, and this time he pulled out a dark blue golf club. Pointing it at the unconscious man on the lawn, he shouted, "_Flowerpower!_" A puff of blue smoke appeared over the man's head and disappeared almost instantaneously. The man lifted his head up, shook it a few times, then smiled goofily and rolled over onto his stomach, kicking his feet in the air and humming merrily.

"You don't think…" the cat meowed cautiously. "Sir, you don't think you may have… overdone it with him, do you?"

"Nonsense! He'll be fine. Now, hurry! We'll miss the lemon drops!"

Tumblefore turned around, knocked on the door of Number Forty, Sweetbriar Drive, and then, giggling maniacally, ran towards the golf cart and hopped in. As it sped away into the sky, Vernando Dizzly's wife Parsnip Dizzly opened the door, looked down at the sleeping baby on her porch, and with a scream, dropped the freshly-baked pie that she held in her hands. It landed right on the baby and suddenly exploded, covering every house on the street with bits of pie.

High up in the sky, unaware of what had just happened below him, Professor Tumblefore chuckled merrily.

"Everything turned out better than expected," he said with a smile.


	2. Something Fishy's Probably Going On Here

**Chapter Two: Something Fishy Is Probably Going On Here, Probably**

Ten years later, Harry Putter lived under the kitchen table at the Dizzly's household. He had a single blanket to keep himself warm at night, and his food and water were placed two times a day in the old dog dishes that used to belong to his Uncle Vernando's childhood pet pitbull Mister Snuggles before he passed away. Harry had some newspapers down there to go to the bathroom on, and for years he was perfectly comfortable in his spot under the kitchen table, except during meal times, when his family took to "accidentally" kicking him in the face every now and then.

Due to being kicked so often in the face, it's no wonder that Harry's vision began to slowly dwindle throughout the years, and now he had taken to wearing an old pair of his Aunt Parsnip's glasses. Aunt Parsnip had one of those fancy schmancy laser-eye surgeries, you see, and no longer needed them.

Sometimes when Uncle Vernando grew angry, he took to thwapping poor Harry with his old cane a bit. Uncle Vernando looked for any excuse he could find to whack the thing around, seeing as how he enjoyed the sound of old wood pounding against… anything, really. However, it may have been proven that he enjoyed it a little _too _much, seeing as he had already broken five canes this year from whacking them about and was working on his sixth.

Harry's cousin Cadberry was as fat as they come, and coincidentally bore an incredible resemblance to a giant white chocolate Cadbury egg. He was always found eating something, and his favorite pastime just so happened to be insulting Harry in any way he could to make the boy cry.

Harry's life at the Dizzly's was not pleasant, but he knew no other life.

And so, as his eleventh birthday drew nearer, things started to grow worse for Harry, because he lived in a terrible, terrible home with terrible, terrible people who were constantly terribly, terribly mean to him for no apparent reason whatsoever. Secretly Harry thought that Uncle Vernando and Cadberry were just jealous because Harry was skinny and they were fat. As for Aunt Parsnip, well, she was just a bitch to everyone.

One day, about a week away from his birthday, Harry awoke to storms of yelling. He sat upright in shock, bumping his head on the kitchen table as he did so. His spot under the table was comfortable for a while, but he really was outgrowing it, as he continually told his Aunt Parsnip, who wouldn't listen because she's a bitch and just shoved raw onions in his mouth instead.

On this particular day, though, Uncle Vernando and Aunt Parsnip seemed to be in a heated argument, which was odd, seeing as Uncle Vernando was Aunt Parsnip's puppy dog and usually did whatever she asked of him without complaint.

"I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT HITLER," roared Uncle Vernando, "WHEN STALIN WAS JUST AS BADASS."

"OH NO YOU DI'INT YOU MUTHAFUCKA!" shrieked Aunt Parsnip. "STALIN WAS ONE MUTHAFUCKIN' PAIN IN THE ASS! HITLER THREW THE BEST PARTIES IN ALL OF EUROPE, AND I KNOW, 'CAUSE I WAS AT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF 'EM!"

"THAT'S A LOAD OF BULL, PARS-NIPPY, YOU WEREN'T EVEN BORN WHEN HITLER WAS BORN!"

"I WAS BORN THREE YEARS AFTER HIM AND I WAS INVITED TO HIS GRAD PARTY, YOU PIG!"

Confused as to why his aunt and uncle were arguing over which dictator had more swag, Harry rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep, which was difficult considering the fact that they wouldn't stop pounding their fists on the kitchen table above him, probably unaware that he was even under there. So instead he simply sat there, curled up in a ball, fists clamped tight over his ears, until Aunt Parsnip went outside to tend to the monstrosity that she called a garden and the yelling ceased.

Suddenly remembering Harry's existence, Uncle Vernando shoved his hand under the table and pulled Harry out by the hair.

"YOU'RE A MONKEY!" he shouted at the boy, for no real reason.

"Oh, boo, am I really?" the boy said in confusion, for he had just begun to fall into a sort of lucid dream in which he actually _was _a monkey.

"DON'T BE STUPID! YOU'RE DUMB!" And then, with one giant whack on the boy's backside, Uncle Vernando's sixth cane finally snapped in half. The fat man sank back into his chair as tears began to well up in his eyes. The next second he was bawling his eyes out, and at the rate the tears were flowing, the house very well may have flooded in a matter of minutes. However, he tried to cover up his tears by shouting flaming profanities at the walls.

Seconds later, Harry's fat cousin Cadberry walked downstairs and entered the kitchen, holding a platter containing an entire chocolate cake.

"Somebody say my name?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes and taking a bite out of the enormous pastry. He looked from Harry, to his father, to the broken cane lying on the floor, and he understood, since this was a fairly common occurrence in the Dizzly household. "Oh, crap," he muttered under his breath. Then he opened the back door and called outside, "MOM! DAD'S BROKEN HIS CANE AGAIN!"

Aunt Parsnip came rushing inside, fussing and cooing over her husband. Dizzly stayed in his corner, happily munching on his cake. Finally, after what seemed like hours of trying to calm Uncle Vernando down, Aunt Parsnip helped him up out of his chair, grabbed her son's arm, and began dragging them violently out the door.

"Come on now, come _on!_" she ordered Cadberry. "We're going to the supermarket to buy your father a new cane. Come on now, hurry!"

"Wait…" said Harry in confusion. "Do they actually sell _canes _at the supermarket?"

"YOU BIG FAT MEANIE!" Uncle Vernando shouted at him. "YOU BROKED SIR SMACKSALOT! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" He was just about to begin bawling again when Aunt Parsnip shoved him out the door.

"_You,_ boy!" she cried, pointing a long fingernail at Harry. "You stay under that table, and if I find out you had another accident on the carpet…" and then she left the house with Cadberry, slamming the door behind her.

Of course, having the house all to himself was no common occurrence, and of course he wasn't going to listen to his aunt, because hey, what she didn't know wouldn't kill her, right? So he crept up to his cousin Cadberry's room to see what life was like upstairs, where he wasn't usually allowed to go because that's where Cadberry's room was and Cadberry liked to throw chocolate pudding at Harry when he tried to come upstairs.

When he got to his cousin's room, he automatically grabbed the nearest chocolate item he could find and began munching on it. The constant eating of chocolate must've been contagious, because after that he just couldn't help himself. Then he bounced a bit on the bed before falling asleep on it. And then he was dreaming.

He was dreaming about a rather tall, rather fat man who travelled only by flying golf carts. There was also a talking cat in there, but that didn't seem weird at all for some reason… and some strange Gothic old man wearing a stupid black band T-shirt. It had been a strange dream, but it had been a good dream, and it had seemed oddly familiar to him… but it couldn't have lasted because Harry is supposed to be incredibly unhappy at this point of the story so we'd better get there right away.

The Dizzlys came back home and Cadberry was none too pleased to find Harry asleep in his bed. He woke the small boy up by shaking him violently, and when that didn't work, he tried pouring chocolate pudding over his head. This woke up Harry, but then Cadberry was sad because there was chocolate pudding all over his bed now. In order to comfort himself, Cadberry immediately started insulting his little cousin.

He was still munching on the chocolate cake he had earlier, except now only a quarter of it was remaining, and in between bites he said: "You suck! You're ugly and you have no friends or parents and I'm better than you and I've got parents and cheesecake and chocolate things and you have to sleep under a table, hahaha, I get the bed, oooh boohoo, it just sucks to be you, doesn't it? I'm glad I don't look like you because that's not a pretty face and you're ugly, hahaha!"

These were the usual insults from Cadberry, and they weren't very good, but they still hurt poor Harry's feelings, and so he began to cry. Laughing, Cadberry crossed the room to his computer, but when he went to turn it on, the whole thing exploded in his face, leaving black burn marks on the desk where it used to be, and Cadberry's entire head covered in ash.

"…Ouch," Cadberry muttered. "That kinda hurt."

This was Harry's chance to escape. He leaped off the bed and dashed downstairs, where Uncle Vernando was sitting in his usual spot at the kitchen table, holding his brand-new cane tightly in his hands. He was muttering to himself, something about Stalin having tons more swag than Hitler, and Harry realized that his battle with Aunt Parsnip was still not over.

"Hey, Uncle Vernando," Harry said, just to be annoying. "Hey, Uncle Vernando! Uncle Vernando, Uncle Vernando, Uncle Vernando, Uncle Vernando, UNCLE VERNANDO! GUESS WHAT!"

"Nffrghffnnnng… WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?" he shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear him. His eyes were wide and his lips were puffed up, just like he always got when he was incredibly mad.

"I had a dream," Harry continued excitedly. "And there was this flying golf cart! Isn't that _stupid, _Uncle Vernando? The golf cart was _flying_!"

"GOLF—CARTS—DON'T—FLY!" he yelled, and as he did so, his eyes popped further and further out of his head, and his lips grew bigger and bigger, until it looked almost abnormal.

"Uncle Vernando, look!" said Harry, stifling a laugh. "What's wrong with your face?"

"THIS—_IS_—MY—FACE!"

But it wasn't _just_ his face, because as he said this, his head began to swell to the size of a beach ball, and then, suddenly, it just detached itself from his body with a small _pop! _and his head soared up into the ceiling, bobbing around in the air as if it were filled with helium.

"Whoa!" Harry exclaimed.

Uncle Vernando, other than the fact that his face and body were frozen and his giant head was bouncing around, seemed completely fine. Harry then seized the cane from his uncle's firm grasp and began poking the head with it, chasing it all around the kitchen and laughing maniacally as he did so. He hadn't had this much fun in his life.

But then Aunt Parsnip walked in, and, needless to say, she was shocked at the sight. For some reason she was holding a pie, and she let out a gasp, and then a scream, and she dropped the pie and it exploded again and got all over every single house on the street, which angered everyone because they had just finished scraping all the pie off from ten years ago.

As Aunt Parnsip screamed, Uncle Vernando's head suddenly shriveled up and flew across the room as if it were a balloon leaking air. It ricocheted off the walls and floor for quite some time before finally landing safely on his head, where it regained its normal size and proportions again. Then he put on a great big smile and began acting as if nothing bad had ever happened to him in his life.

"Lovely day we're having, eh, Parsnip, my love?" he said jovially. "It's so nice out I think I might just go for a walk with my new cane…" And he stood up and left the house, whistling and banging things all the way.

"YOOOOOOU!" Aunt Parsnip yelled, pointing at Harry. Her fingernails were long and painted mustard yellow and were really very disgusting to look at. "YOU ARE A MENTAL CASE! GOODBYE!" And she stormed out of the house after her husband.

When he was sure that they were gone, Harry sat down on the table and began stroking his chin as if he were some super awesome detective person with a super awesome beard.

"Hmm…" he muttered to himself, continuing to stroke his non-existent beard, "Something fishy's going on here, and I don't think it's just me… I think Uncle Vernando and Aunt Parsnip know something about my past that they're not telling me… yes, that's probably it… but I wouldn't know because I'm just pretending to be Sherlock Holmes, yes… something fishy…"

But then Cadberry walked in, this time munching on a bag of M&Ms (plastic and all), and stared at him. Harry froze in his spot as an awkward silence fell between them.

"Oh, uh…" said Harry, fumbling for words. "Um, you weren't supposed to see that."

"Yeah…" said Cadberry awkwardly. "Uh, let's just pretend that never happened…"

And so they did, and the writer then scribbled it out because she did not find it funny.

_**Author's Note: **__I have no idea where I'm going with this, you guys xD I'm gonna keep going with it though, for the sole reason that I'm having fun with it, even if nobody reads it or finds it funny… and… hmm… Oh yeah, I promise you, I've written much more meaningful stuff than this. MUCH more meaningful… :X_


	3. With Reptile Like Fury, Or Something

**Chapter Three: With Reptile-Like Fury, Or Something**

When Uncle Vernando's head blew up, nothing seemed terribly strange to Harry at all. However, as the days went by, he began to wonder more and more if it had been a dream. After all, he did dream about _awfully _strange things… like flying golf carts… and old Gothic men who wear punk rock band T-shirts… and cats who talk and no one finds it strange… and lots and lots and lots of golf clubs for some reason… but that seemed irrelevant. The truth of the matter was that Uncle Vernando's head _did_ indeed blow up, and deep down, Harry knew that it was not just a dream.

The Dizzlys never spoke of the incident again. If Harry ever brought it up, they would tell him in harsh tones that he had dreamt the whole thing, and then Uncle Vernando would proceed to whack the boy on the backside with his cane. Harry did not like this very much, so eventually he learned to stay quiet and remain under the kitchen table like a good little (this is the part where I had the word "dog" striked out but won't allow strikethroughs so nvm) boy.

But one day, about a week after the incident, a letter came for Harry in the mail. There were several strange things about this letter. First of all, the envelope was sealed with a sticker of a pig holding a golf club with the letters WH decorating the borders. Second, the address on the front of the envelope read "Harry Putter, Under the Kitchen Table, Number Forty, Sweetbriar Drive, Small Lynching, England, Planet Earth, Milky Way Galaxy" with two post scripts written underneath it in a very untidy, childlike scrawl: "P. S. Yu wer so kyoot ay cud jus skweez yu," and "P. P. S. Do nawt let deh waggers cee dis ledder." And third, it had arrived to him via a lizard that had climbed down through the chimney. This was most strange because he had never seen a wild lizard before in his life.

But when Aunt Parnsip saw the lizard crawling around her house, she immediately freaked out and started chasing it around with a broom, attempting to kill it. It escaped again up the chimney, but Aunt Parnsip _was _successful in getting the letter away from Harry, because amidst all the hustle and bustle of the chase, Cadberry had found the letter on the ground and picked it up and ate it, thinking it was some kind of wafer or something. He then proceeded to insult Harry, who cried for hours.

The next day, Uncle Vernando and Aunt Parsnip were in another argument about which dictator had more swag, and no one noticed the little lizard that climbed cautiously down the chimney and over to Harry's spot under the table to deliver a second letter. However, Uncle Vernando, not knowing the lizard was there, accidentally squished it several times under his cane as he pounded it against the floor. The dead lizard guts spilled all over the letter, and even if Harry _did _want to touch it after that, the blood had seeped so far into the envelope that it had become unreadable.

The same thing happened to the third lizard, and the third letter. No one had noticed any of the lizards except the first one.

But on the fourth day, an iguana walked through the doggie door with a letter clutched tightly in its mouth. Cadberry saw it before Harry and thought it was a stray dog for some reason, so he tied a piece of rope around its neck and attempted to take it for a walk. When this didn't work, he picked the creature up and threw it on the floor angrily, where it bounced a little before dropping the letter and scurrying away in fright. Cadberry had been so angry, however, that he didn't even notice or care when his muddy shoes trod all over the kitchen and, of course, the letter.

After the disaster on the fifth day, Harry had figured out three things about the person who was trying to write to him.

First, whoever it was, they were completely and utterly out of their minds.

Second, they were fighting a losing battle, because Harry still had not gotten his letter.

And third, they had a strange obsession with reptiles.

On the fifth day, you see, a snake entered the house through the chimney. It was not any ordinary snake, though. It was a python and it had to have been at least sixty feet long. Either that or everyone in the Dizzly house had suddenly gone insane and it was all just a hallucination.

Anyway, Aunt Parsnip screamed and immediately jumped on top of the table, which suddenly broke as Uncle Vernando whacked his cane against it, and she landed on top of Harry.

Uncle Vernando then attempted to ward the beast off with his cane, but the snake just ended up swallowing it, causing the fat man to burst into giant, childlike tears.

Cadberry just stood there watching the whole thing while munching on a chocolate chip cookie that was roughly the size of his middle. Apparently he was under the impression that he was watching a television program… until, that is, the snake slithered right up to him and began to weave in and out of his legs, at which point he dropped his giant cookie (which truly was a feat, since he never let go of anything that he was eating until he had finished eating it) and ran from the house screaming.

The snake swallowed the cookie, and as Uncle Vernando and Aunt Parsnip ran madly around the house calling exterminators and preparing their things to move, Harry's letter lay on the ground, forgotten.

Two seconds after Harry remembered it was there, the snake slithered right up to it and swallowed it. Then, realizing what it had done, slid itself up to Harry, apologized, and left the house.

The Dizzlys moved far, far away after that, and didn't take much liking to reptiles for the rest of their lives probably.

But still, they could not escape the wrath of the angry reptiles, which were now more determined than ever to deliver this letter to Harry (who, surprisingly, had literally no injuries from Aunt Parnsip breaking the table and landing on top of him, like, seriously, none).

They had lived in a nice little cottage in Greenland for no more than a day when an alligator, a crocodile, and a hippo all trounced in at once, each of them carrying a dozen letters.

This freaked them out so they moved again, this time to some really remote place in New Guinea.

Then a polar bear came with a letter.

Uncle Vernando shot it, then continued to prod it with his seventh cane for hours on end (first to make sure that it was really dead, and then just because he liked his cane). It bled all over the letter, just like the last two lizards did…

For about a month, the Dizzlys and Harry hopped from house to house to escape the strange letter-bearing animals, who always came in through the chimneys, and if there wasn't any chimney to come in through, then one would magically appear like in _The Santa Clause_ or whatever that Christmas movie was, but I'm pretty sure it was _The Santa Clause. _

Finally, Cadberry made an intelligent decision. It was, quite possibly, the only intelligent decision he had ever made in his life.

"Why don't we just let them give Harry the letters?" he asked Uncle Vernando one day.

"Don't be ridiculous, my young boy!" bellowed the fat man, as he waved his cane around in the air. "Your mother and I know much more about his past than we are letting on, _obviously, _although we would never admit that because we are far too intelligent to do so, and we know what these letters all say, and we're not giving them to him for a very, very, _very_ good reason!"

"And what reason is that?" Harry asked sadly, for he had wanted nothing more than to read his letters for a very, very, _very _long time now.

"Pssht! Like I'd tell you!"

"What reason is that, Dad?" asked Cadberry, genuinely curious.

"Well, _obviously, _it's—it's—it's…" He said nothing after that, but instead handed Cadberry a giant plate of delicious chocolatey English snacks. Cadberry teased Harry with the chocolates and then insulted him, and Harry ran out of the house crying.

Neither boy asked Uncle Vernando or Aunt Parsnip anything about the letters after that.

_The only good part about all this,_ thought Harry silently one night, _is that I don't have to live under a kitchen table anymore!_

It was true. Somewhere in the middle of one of their many moves, Aunt Parsnip and Uncle Vernando suddenly realized that Harry was an actual human being, not a dog, and allowed him to sleep on a SleepNumber mattress. But they made the mattress as soft as it could possibly go and then stole the little remote thingy that controls the softness, so Harry was constantly suffering from a very stiff back.

Harry asked Aunt Parsnip why they did this to him, but she merely shoved a dirty gym sock in his mouth and called him a hag turd.

He then asked Uncle Vernando the same question, and he gave the boy an insult and a dirty look.

As Harry was beginning to tear up at the insult, Cadberry asked the very same question, to which Uncle Vernando gave the most honest answer he could ever give to any question ever:

"Because Parsnip's a bitch who thinks Hitler has more swag than Stalin."

Although Uncle Vernando and Aunt Parsnip had constantly been clashing due to their swag debate, for the most part, their relationship was as normal as ever. And despite their constant change in residencies, the family seemed totally normal: Vernando continued to act as Parsnip's puppy dog; Harry was miserable as always; and Cadberry continued to eat anything chocolatey 24/7.

Yes, 24/7.

Even while he slept and showered and pooped.

_**Author's Note: **__The author would like to apologize to her faithful (heh) readers for the brutality of this chapter, particularly concerning the deaths of the lizards and the polar bear, and would like to assure you all that no living being was harmed in the making of this chapter, unless you count the time I stubbed my toe on the desk. Also if there are any gruesome (heh) deaths in any future chapters, I promise to warn you all beforehand. This sort of brutality was not expected by any of us (myself included) at the beginning of the chapter and if you are offended by it, then I am truly, deeply sorry, because I don't find it very funny either (heh). _


End file.
